


untitled Voyager round robin

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Early Work, Genderswap, Multi, Round Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-03-01
Updated: 1997-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A twisted story snippet involving genderbending. This is part of a Voyager round robin story, and is pretty much a PWP (Plot? What plot?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled Voyager round robin

**Author's Note:**

> **AO3 A/N:** This is an example of my very early fanfic. For historical purposes I'm leaving it as it was originally posted, including the summary. Even if a lot of it makes me cringe now.

**The story thus far:**

Starling, in addition to gifting the Doctor with a portable holo-emitter, also apparently gifted him with a taste for kinky sex of the bdsm variety.

Paris, Chakotay, Kim, and Kes have returned from a strange planet. A disease that affects the planet's women, changing their gender, seems to be affecting the whole landing party. They have returned to Voyager and the men are quarantined on the holodeck, while Kes is in her cabin.

Neelix has just seen Kes in her male form for the first time and has fainted.

**...and so I continue:**

"You're a doctor," he reminded himself, "not a voyeur." With effort, he raised his gaze to Kes' eyes, and immediately regretted it. Those big, guileless blue eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Quickly, he frowned back down at his tricorder, having difficulty focusing on the data it displayed. The penis sheath pressed against him, the leather growing tighter around his swelling erection.

"Will he be all right, doctor?" she asked, her voice slightly huskier than usual.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. He has a minor concussion and a small bruise, that's all," he said.

"I'll be fine." Neelix struggled to his feet and tugged his tunic down in a vain attempt to recover his dignity.

Kes stood gracefully and, much to the doctor's relief, reached for her robe . She wrapped its silken fabric around her lithe form, smiling gently at Neelix before turning her attention back to the hologram. "Have you spoken to Minister Yeval?" she asked.

"Yes." He paused, unsure how she would react to his news. Unsure, for that matter, how he felt about it. The prospect of Kes remaining in that tempting male form forever was . . . appealing, to say the least.

"Well?" Neelix asked anxiously.

"I am doing my own research on the subject, but based on data from the health minister and the tricorder readings of the affected D'velgians, it appears that they are suffering from an incurable virus. The virus' DNA, or provirus, integrates itself into the DNA of the host cell. This process ordinarily converts the host cells into cancer cells. In the D'velgians' case, however, while a transformation occurs it does not appear to be a malignant one. Rather, the transformation seems to focus on the gender-determining chromosome, altering it from female to male. I have accessed Voyager's medical database, but have been unable to find any other examples of integrated proviral DNA causing non-malignant transformations of this kind."

Kes nodded.

"What does that mean?" Neelix demanded, taking Kes' hand protectively in his.

"I'll explain it to you later," she said soothingly. "But, Doctor, why is the transformation occurring so quickly? I thought the D'velgian women were being affected over a period of months rather than hours."

"In your case it appears to be a function of your Ocampan metabolism. Your cells naturally mature and regenerate more quickly than the D'velgians'."

"Have you found how the virus is transmitted?"

"Not yet. Until we do, you and Neelix are under quarantine. You'll need to remain in your quarters for the time being. And there is more bad news, I'm afraid. It appears that the virus mutated when it came into contact with human DNA. The male members of the away team have been affected, as well, and the progression of the virus in their systems nearly rivals yours. We're beaming them directly into quarantine from the planet's surface. The negotiations over the use of the spatial anomaly will have to be conducted via the viewscreens for now."

"Can you find a cure?" Neelix asked.

"Given time I can create a vaccine for the crew, but I don't know if anything can be done for someone who's already infected."

***

Sandrine's was smoky and quiet. Tom sat on a bar stool, hunched over a mug of beer. He was exhausted and his chest hurt. Aw, hell, who was he kidding; it wasn't his chest anymore, they were breasts. His breasts ached. He sighed and reached down, absently rubbing his palm against his crotch, verifying that the familiar bulge was still there.

"I know." The hand on his left shoulder was gentle, the voice sultry and low. "It's frightening, isn't it? Until this happened, I hadn't realized that the shape of my body was so integral to who I was."

Surprised, Paris glanced up to see Chakotay standing next to him. It was a softer, more feminine version of Chakotay, his curves--her curves, Tom corrected himself--exaggerated in a uniform that was cut for a man. Reaching across, he placed his right hand over Chakotay's. They were silent for a moment, and then Tom spoke.

"You know what? If we'd had to be quarantined individually, in our quarters, I think I'd go nuts." Suddenly uncomfortable with the flesh- to-flesh contact, he reached for his mug, anxious for the chill of the glass to obliterate the memory of Chakotay's warm fingers. "The beer and the company are all that're keeping me from going over the edge," he continued. "I wonder how poor Harry's doing as the doctor's guinea pig. He's been in sickbay for over two hours now."

"He'll be all right," Chakotay answered, her hand still resting on Tom's shoulder. "We'll all be all right. It may take some getting used to, but we'll make it through this."

Paris turned on the stool and looked at her intently. She looked so serene, her deep brown eyes calm and untroubled. How could Chakotay be so calm when he was scared to death? It was bad enough having been a convict's "girlfriend" in prison, how was he going to live the rest of his life in that role--in a body that wasn't his? She seemed to see the fears reflected in his eyes. Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him. The tentative contact was electrifying.

"I don't know how to be a woman . . ." His words trailed off as his gaze locked with Chakotay's. Her warm hand rested lightly on his thigh and the room suddenly seemed filled with the musky scent of her skin and the sound of his pounding heart.

"Come upstairs with me, Tom."

 

***

The room was dwarfed by the huge bed in its middle. Four cherrywood posts rose up from the fluffy white bedclothes, thick burgundy pillars that tapered as they neared the ceiling. Chakotay closed the door behind them and Tom turned to face her. Two oil lamps lit the room with a soft radiance that accented the planes of her cheekbones and jawline.

Tom closed his eyes. It was easier when he couldn't see Chakotay standing before him. He couldn't reconcile the image of this sensuous, sultry woman with that of his hostile superior officer, even though he knew that ultimately they were one and the same.

He could feel her touch as she gently tugged his tunic off, baring the breasts that he hadn't yet had the courage to examine. He inhaled deeply, the tangy scent of sandalwood and myrrh overwhelming his senses. Her graceful fingers trailed from his shoulders down to the waistband of his pants, undoing the fastener and slipping the material to the floor. His eyes opened involuntarily as those warm fingers caressed his breasts, sending electricity running from his newly sensitive nipples directly to his groin. He felt oddly reassured by the rush of blood flowing to engorge his penis. As long as his masculinity was intact he was still Tom Paris, breasts or no breasts.

Gently Chakotay pushed him back until he was sitting on the bed, the goose-down comforter caressing him in its cloud- like embrace. In one smooth motion she slipped her tunic up and over her head, unconcernedly dropping it to the floor. The uniform pants quickly followed, her hands sliding the fabric over her hips and down her thighs. Tom shifted his position until he was cradled by the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. His hand strayed to his erect cock, stroking it lightly as his gaze traveled from her full, rose-tipped breasts to the patch of curly, dark hair between her legs. Chakotay smiled slightly.

"See?" she said, her voice husky with desire. "Life goes on."

She knelt on the bed next to him, tracing an invisible line on the inside of his thigh until she was gently probing the newly developed opening between his legs. The sensation of her fingers lingering at the threshold of his vagina was both strange and arousing. Tom caught his lower lip between his teeth as unfamiliar nerves sent confusing signals to his brain. Chakotay wrapped her other hand around the base of his penis and began to caress the shaft gently. He closed his eyes against the vision of the buxom brunette leaning towards him. He felt her soft lips wrap around his cock, taking as much of him as possible inside her mouth.

As much as he wanted to just enjoy what she was doing to his body, Tom couldn't forget that she was the same person who regularly chastised him in public as though he was a child. He knew that inside, Chakotay still thought of him as an immature Starfleet wannabe, a failure. Frustration and anger rose within him. He opened his eyes and leaned forward, pushing on Chakotay's shoulders until she was lying on her back pinned beneath him. She didn't fight him, but merely met his gaze with a smoldering look.

Tom pressed his lips against hers, finding her mouth warm, open and welcoming. He kissed her deeply and she responded to him, parting her knees and arching her hips against him. Slipping his hand from her shoulder, he cupped a full breast and tweaked its nipple gently, causing her to shudder. Aching for release and tormented by the unfamiliar stimulus on his shifting anatomy, Tom guided his member to Chakotay's moist slit. He felt a fleeting resistance against the head of his cock as he thrust. Hearing her sharp intake of breath he froze, realizing what should have been obvious to him before: Chakotay's female form had been virginal.

"Don't stop," Chakotay whispered. She arched against him again, her fevered flesh pressing against his.

Tom slid his hands beneath her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. Burying his face in her neck and breathing in the musky, heady smell of her skin, he began thrusting again. She matched his rhythm, engulfing him in her warm moistness with every stroke. A low moan built up in the back of Chakotay's throat and her hands slipped down his back to cup his buttocks. With each thrust she urged him harder and deeper into her, her cries now coming between clenched teeth as she began to climax. Tom stopped moving, feeling her body twich and writhe beneath him. When she had stilled, he pulled away, his penis slipping from inside her and his intense arousal all but forgotten.

He looked down into Chakotay's dark, intense eyes, seeking a hint of what was going on in her mind. She was so beautiful, so strong and . . . so real. His anger was gone and he found himself close to tears. Damn these hormonal changes, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak when she interrupted.

"I've always wanted to do this, to make love with you," she said, "but I've never been sure how to approach you."

Tom closed his eyes and fought back the tears that were threatening to spill over despite his efforts. Why did he care? Why did he need Chakotay's approval so much? Why did he want her?

To hide his emotional reaction, he kissed her collarbone tenderly. Slowly, he continued kissing his way down her body, stopping for a moment at her breasts to tease the rose-beige nipples with his tongue until they stood erect and Chakotay began to moan again. Her skin was salty against his lips and he moved further downward to where she was most sensitive. Gently spreading her labia with his fingers, Tom explored the opening, tasting her juices. Cautiously he flicked the tip of his tongue against her clitoris and was fascinated when she gasped and arched her hips toward him.

"Stop," she said. "That's too much. I don't think I can take that kind of sensory overload."

Tom shifted himself over on the bed to lie down next to her, but with the speed and agility of a panther she was on top of him, a predatory smile on her face.

"Your turn," Chakotay said, slipping down between Tom's legs and burying her face in the mass of light brown curls.

Shocked, Tom realized that his transformation was complete. He'd been robbed of his manhood and forced into a body that was foreign to him.

Chakotay's tongue brushed against his newly formed clitoris, causing an unfamiliar tingling in his loins. Oblivious to the moans that escaped his lips, everything but Chakotay's touch faded into nothingness. As her tongue teased the sensitive nub of flesh, she slipped two fingers carefully inside him. He felt a brief stab of pain at first, and then a feeling of being stretched and filled--the sensation was overwhelming, ten times more intense than anything he'd experienced before. The warmth of her breath tickled his skin and she redoubled her efforts to drive him to the heights of ecstacy. Without warning heat spread from the center of Tom's belly, engulfing him in a wash of pleasure as his muscles tensed and his body strained against Chakotay's strong hands.

Afterward, as they lay sweating and exhausted in each others arms, Tom reached out and traced the tattoo with her fingertips. "I've always wondered about this, Chakotay" she said. "I know it's to honor your father . . ."

**And that's it for my portion of the Round Robin.**


End file.
